


in becoming one

by zanykingmentality



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Character Study, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Canon, starts as a history & character study but then deteriorates into a/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 20:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19158736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanykingmentality/pseuds/zanykingmentality
Summary: there is only one of each of you.[change becomes inevitable when you spend too much time with humans.]





	in becoming one

**Author's Note:**

> so i meant to make this a really long character study of aziraphale because he's so beautifully complicated but then i started thinking about aziraphale and crowley and it kind of went off the rails. either way i hope it still turned out okay haha... after some editing i'm still unsure but i want to just post it already. 
> 
> anyway, uhh. unbeta-d, so please forgive my lingering errors, and also because it's kind of late at night.

Angels are created to be very set in their ways.

 

Aziraphale was no exception. The Almighty created him with a soldier in mind — probably, as no one _really_ ever knows what the Almighty is thinking — and set him to guard the East Gate, the very same one he’d ushered Adam and Eve out of only days ago. Aziraphale’s confidence was restored, now reassured that since he was an angel, his very actions were bred of goodness. And he was, of course, grateful that the Almighty hadn’t asked after his sword again.

 

But then Aziraphale went down among the humans.

 

By then, they’d created little civilizations of their own. Cities around oasis-lakes and kings who claimed to speak to gods, plural, as if it hadn’t only been some generations ago that Adam had popped into being under an apple tree. After popping over to the Indus River Valley civilization to sample their bathhouse and marvel at their architecture, Aziraphale miracled himself to Mesopotamia, where he’d heard ruinous rumors about sacrilegious idol-worship. He received a message a few days later, while he was sampling the wondrous things humans had thought to do with bread, stating that soon, all of Mesopotamia would be washed away, save for the few the Almighty wanted to preserve.

 

Aziraphale’s stomach lurched at the idea of so many dead humans, but it was something he’d have to get used to. He was an angel after all, and angels are not meant to get attached to humanity, as enticing as the idea of free will was. Aziraphale could not succumb to the temptation of thinking for himself. He would _not._

 

So Mesopotamia was washed away — a miraculous flooding of both the Tigris and Euphrates — and Aziraphale popped over to Egypt, where he willed away the tiny pinprick of guilt in his head by helping humans build the pyramids. Couldn’t hurt. Probably.

 

After all, the future was ineffable.

 

* * *

 

But being among humans has always been a dangerous pastime, especially for an angel with no free will.

 

Humans convinced Aziraphale that maybe, _maybe_ , all this fraternizing with Crawly — sorry, _Crowley_ — could possibly lead to something _good_ , or at least a balance of good and evil, through which the humans decided which path to ultimately take. Though Aziraphale would definitely admit, Crowley’s frequent visits often frazzled his delicate nerves. Sometimes Crowley didn’t even _try_ to tempt Aziraphale for anything; he’d simply sit there and watch as Aziraphale bustled about, nervously fidgeting in his tunic. It was as though the demon had some kind of odd fascination with angel life on Earth — as though spying on Aziraphale could possibly get him info hell didn’t already have. Honestly, the nerve of him!

 

In 1020, they made the Arrangement: a promise not to meddle in each others’ affairs. Crowley appeared to Aziraphale often enough that he found it was a necessary move, were the forces of evil to ever encroach upon the good he was trying to spread. It was an Arrangement that Crowley broke, however — in the seventeenth century, although it was entirely unsurprising, him being a demon and all — when he sent Aziraphale to Edinburgh to do his dirty work. It was work that he carried out with great reluctance, and he made sure the diseases spread to the cattle were _mostly_ harmless.

 

(He’d tried to convince himself he didn’t care if Crowley got reprimanded for a superficial curse, but it’d proved harder than he thought. Aziraphale noted this with regret, and hoped it was the good in him offering compassion, even to those who didn’t necessarily deserve it.)

 

This should’ve been an indication to Aziraphale that the humans were affecting him more than he would have liked.

 

But he’d been growing _attached_ to them, you see, and the delicious ways they bred strains of fruits and added sugar to already-sweet tea. And, of course, things were _good_ down there on the surface, and since it was all capital-G Good, there was no reason for the apocalypse to occur anytime soon.

 

Plus, humanity was Aziraphale’s charge, and he’d be damned if he let anything happen to it. Well. Hopefully not _damned_ damned, but ━ just a figure of speech.

 

There was just something about free will that made it so _tempting_ ━

 

* * *

 

“Angel, please,” Crowley said. His sunglasses made him appear as though he hadn’t a care for the conversation, but Aziraphale knew him well enough by now that he could pick out the frustration in the demon’s voice.

 

“ _No_ , Crowley,” said Aziraphale. “We _can’t_ have lunch together, you’re a demon and I’m an angel! Our previous interactions have been purely business related.”

 

Crowley scoffed. “Business related. Sure.”

 

Aziraphale gave him one of those angelic, chiding looks so characteristic of him.

 

“Think of it this way,” said Crowley. “Having lunch with me is taking time out of _my_ busy day of doing ━ wait for it ━ _evil._ So, really, you’ll be doing a lot of good by having lunch with me.”

 

Now, it’s important to remember Aziraphale was not easily manipulated. He knew what Crowley was trying to do. The logic was sound… Well, sound _enough_ at least, and Aziraphale would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a _little_ curious about this demon who’d been popping up in his life so often. Lying was definitely _not_ a holy action, unless of course in certain circumstances when it was unavoidable. Though Aziraphale had gotten unfortunately better at it, he still leaned toward the truth. Surprisingly, so did Crowley ━ at least, when not in regard to reports sent back to the Head Office.

 

“Fine,” Aziraphale said.

 

But they were not meant to be seen together, so they were not. An unfortunate circumstance again, but necessary nonetheless. Aziraphale just hoped he wouldn’t regret this later.

 

The word _friend_ burned itself into the back of his corporeal brain.

 

* * *

 

In the end, it turned out there was an extra side of the apocalypse. _Humanity._ With the addition of Aziraphale and Crowley, of course.

 

Aziraphale had learned a lot these past few days. He learned that just being an angel did not make one _good_ ━ the way he thought of goodness was, in fact, directly against what heaven had planned for the world. He learned, also, that being a demon did not make one _bad,_ though Crowley certainly tried to live up to the expectation, wearing all black and sunglasses when they weren’t needed. Aziraphale had also learned that during his time on Earth, he had done what was impossible for angels and demons alike: he had _changed._ And so had Crowley. They were more human than any of their coworkers.

 

At this point, though, Aziraphale was reluctant to call them coworkers. He opted instead for a nicer word, like “acquaintance” or “frenemy.” Nice, in this case, having the same usage as in archaic English, meaning fastidious, scrupulous.

 

Speaking of relationship-oriented words. Aziraphale looked sideways at Crowley, whose gaze was masked by his ever-present sunglasses. The warmth in his chest was something he now recognized, something he had been tamping down and mistaking for fiendish hate now realized as what it really was: love.

 

It was not love in the human sense of the word. Human love was all about physicality. Though Crowley and Aziraphale were the closest to human a supernatural being could get, there was still something quite immortal about the thudding of Aziraphale’s purchased heart. He may have taken his fair share of glances at Crowley’s bright mouth, so full of vulgar words and sincere feelings ━ but looking alone did not make his attraction purely physical. Nor did it make it purely spiritual. Aziraphale pondered on this for a long moment, trying to puzzle through the subtleties of angel-demon romance. It was uncharted territory; it wasn’t as if they would have books in heaven about angels and demons becoming partners. It was unprecedented.

 

“You’re thinking about something,” said Crowley. Aziraphale jumped from his thoughts back into the real world, where Crowley’s arm rested over the back of the bench, snaking around Aziraphale’s shoulders without directly touching him. It looked so easy for him.

 

“Me? Thinking? Perish the thought.” Aziraphale fidgeted in his seat and stared out over the river. Above his head, perched on a streetlamp, a nightingale chirped a few notes of melody.

 

“Usually I would agree,” Crowley said. “Talk to me, angel.”

 

By now Aziraphale knew that “angel” was a pet name humans used for their significant others; he’d always been somewhat aware, but it had never really mattered much to him until right now. He swallowed thickly.

 

“Crowley,” he said, his voice sounding entirely too posh and too street-rat at the same time, “would you say our relationship extends beyond that of friends?”

 

As much as the sunglasses could hide the movement of Crowley’s eyes, it could not take away the fact that Aziraphale knew he was the target of an analytical snake-stare. Crowley’s legs were spread out in front of him and his posture would’ve allowed others to assume he was relaxed through and through; but the way he angled his head in order to hear Aziraphale’s quiet words, the way he shifted almost entirely when Aziraphale opened his mouth ━ that was the kind of thing most couldn’t pick up on. Only Aziraphale could.

 

“Why?”

 

Aziraphale wet his lips. “It has come to my attention,” he started, feeling incredibly awkward, “that I have, em. _Feelings_ about you.”

 

“I should hope so,” Crowley said. “It’s dreadfully boring to not feel some way or another about something. Besides, you made your thoughts quite clear from the beginning, angel.”

 

There was the pet name again. Crowley really should stop, or Aziraphale would never be able to confront him about this.

 

“That’s not what I mean,” Aziraphale grouched. “I mean, I may have said I didn’t like you, but I’ve realized ━ I’ve realized, unfortunately, that it’s entirely untrue. The opposite, in fact.”

 

Crowley was silent. Spurred on by adrenaline, Aziraphale continued.

 

“In fact, I think I like you a bit too much than is ordinary between friends, even immortal friends. It’s a strange feeling, I must say, but I’ve been worrying about telling you, not because I don’t _trust_ you but because I don’t want it to make us go back to how we were before or anything, and I━”

 

He was cut off by Crowley.

 

“You really are so stupid,” Crowley said. “So cleverly stupid to have thought I hadn’t felt that way for you since the apple.”

 

Aziraphale blinked, the fog in his eyes clearing. “You ━ I ━ That’s ━ That’s fantastic!” he sputtered. Then: “Oh, no, I’m so sorry, it must have been _awful_ ━”

 

“Shut up,” Crowley said. “It was not awful and I’m not surprised you didn’t pick up on it.”

 

Aziraphale opened his mouth indignantly, but could not form words with which to respond.

 

“Anyway,” said Crowley, “I’m glad we got that cleared up. It really is so much better to just say things out in the open like this now, don’t you think? No heaven or hell to tell us what to do.”

 

“Well, I mean, they still _can_ ,” Aziraphale said.

 

“Doesn’t mean we’ll listen.”

 

Aziraphale did not respond, just tried to bite back a wide smile. Crowley, facing him, could do nothing to hide his stupid grin and the dark red of his face.

 

So yes, maybe Aziraphale was glad the apocalypse was meant to happen. But he was also incredibly glad it had been subverted. Not all angels can change, but Aziraphale and Crowley ━ they came a long way.

 

In this way, maybe it was humanity that was ultimately ineffable. Humanity, and love. 

**Author's Note:**

> so here's my thing. i really headcanon aziraphale and crowley as having like mostly an asexual relationship b/c of the whole immortality thing, it's kind of hard to explain but um. let me know what you think about that. of course i can write non-ace a/c too but i think this adds a lot of depth tbh. might just be me though. 
> 
> anyway i hoped you liked reading this as much as i liked writing it which was at least a little bit


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